What A Heavenly Way To Die
by soulioli
Summary: Room 411 houses a very special person. Room 411 captures their final moments on this earth. Room 411 is the place where Akira loses the love of his life. (Written for: Shuann Week Day 1: Goodbye) [Protag/Ann]


The white-blue hallways contained one particular phantom at this time of night. He seemed to walk aimlessly and with all the care of a man who had lived for far longer than he expected - but without fail, he always got to room 411.

The man in question was aging - that much was clear. Signs of his age were found in the space around his slate-colored eyes, where crow's feet had implanted themselves, and his completely gray hair.

But if he was miserable now - he surely hadn't been miserable for all of his long life. Laugh and smile lines adorned his face, along with all of the curious wrinkles. He'd once been a jovial man, the workers reckoned, and even now, a small fire of kindness lit up his features.

It should have been a myth, or a mystery as to why this man was here. Why he walked the same way and hobbled to the same room every day, without fail.

Of course, he'd become somewhat of an urban legend, he and his aging wife that had been fighting for far longer than she should have. As such, they knew why he was here.

Everyone did.

* * *

Akira's drift down the hall was almost mindless; if only for the fact that he'd walked these halls enough times to know where he was going automatically. The halls seemed to create new ghosts from the colors reflected back to his eyes.

Those same eyes watched the walls drift past with a sort of sad look, appearing to match the monotone feeling of the hospital with the color of his eyes. The maze of corridors, filled with patients and doctors rushing past him seemed to mean nothing to the man - and they didn't. The only thing that had meaning was his destination.

He was quick to stumble upon it, stopping at the room entrance as a sick feeling took root in his gut.

Room 411.

He pushed the door open with withering hands that didn't register as his own, immediately hit with the chatter and hum of the room's inhabitants.

Typically, it was a handful of friends or his children - friends who were more often than not some of the ex- Phantom Thieves, if not all of them. It wasn't difficult to make the trip to the hospital in their retirement, but it sometimes caused a stir.

This time it was the children. They looked up when they saw him, and Akira could only bring himself to smile for their sake.

His oldest, Hanako, was the first to stand and embrace him, holding on as if he would soon be the one in the hospital bed. The old man wrapped his arms around his daughter in turn, combing his fingers through her hair and pretending that she was still a small little girl again, climbing onto his lap to hug him goodnight.

That was foolish - as she had her own children, the oldest of which had just graduated college. After attending her graduation, he'd been unable to wipe the prideful look from his face for days. She eventually stepped back, eyes sweeping over her father as if to appraise him - to make sure he was taking care of himself. She'd gotten her mother's genes, with long blonde hair that complimented blue - if not slightly narrowed - eyes. Her hair had been gathered into a low bun that rested at the nape of her neck, complimenting sharp and intelligent features.

The smile that the woman wore was weak and tired, and Akira gave a brighter one unknowingly - as if he could keep them from going through pain just by continuing to smile. He was channeling their mother, they knew, which was something that was both good and sad, all at the same time.

"I'm alright," He said softly, prompting her to glare at him. Something in his heart twitched as she glared at him, placing her hands on her hips. It was the most emotion she'd shown in a while, and reminded him too much of his wife when she was younger.

"Dad -"

"Hanako." His voice was soft and stern, and he watched as the fight slowly started to drain out of her upon hearing his tone. "I'm not the one you need to worry about."

"Of course you are, you're -!"

"He's right, sis…." Another voice piped in. He turned to see his youngest daughter frowning at her older sister, prompting Hanako to look away guiltily. "Dad's a big boy, he can handle himself. Right, Dad?"

He glanced at his youngest daughter and flashed her a smile. Mia Kurusu was his second youngest of the four children, something that made people both protective and wary of her. She was definitely more chubby than anyone else in the family, but she'd come into her body after years of grappling with self image. She'd inherited her father's black hair and eyes, though they constantly shifted between gray, blue, and hazel as she aged. Her hair was pulled back into a curled mess and was growing longer, something that indicated she hadn't been taking care of herself recently.

If he shut his eyes, she suddenly wasn't a mother already. She was that sassy teenager again, and Ann was right by his side, elbowing him with a snort and telling him to get his twin. Or she was locking herself in her bedroom, talking through the door in sniffles before she came out for a hug from her parents and her big sister.

Alas, his eyes were wide open. He gave her a thankful smile, and in turn, she walked to her father and was the next to embrace him.

While Hanako was quick to hold onto him as if he were going to disappear, Mia was all-surrounding. She wasn't trying to hold him together or beg him not to go away with their mother - rather, she was squeezing him tightly and encouraging him to go forward, just like her mother. He shut his eyes and gave her a squeeze back, wondering if somehow, he could trade this whole life just to make this whole situation go away.

"Hey, where's my turn, Mimi?"

The sound of his youngest's voice came from behind the woman, who only scoffed. "Mm, this is _my_ dad. And the last time I checked, aren't women supposed to be closer with their fathers?"

The old bickering almost made the atmosphere lighter somehow, as if they weren't in a hospital. "He's still my dad, though! He may be weaker and more frail, but he's still the old fart I used to play soccer with."

"Who are you calling old, kid?" Akira asked, cracking an eye open at the boy. The older man stared back at him, smiling just a little. If the man squinted, his child was the same as he'd always been, with Ann's bright hair and his eyes (though they frequently dulled to a hazel shade) and a lean, pretty-boy build. Now, though, his hair had greyed some, and he had a thicker build. He released Mia and she stepped back, allowing for her brother to hug her father. "There you are, Jiji. I guess you got his attention with your heckling."

Akira chuckled as he hugged his youngest son, who was still bickering with his older sister as he hugged his father. "It's Jirou! Ji-rou! Even decades later, you're still calling me Jiji?!"

"You still call me Mimi, so I don't want to hear it! My name is _shorter_ than the nickname, you fool!"

Jirou sighed, hugging his father still. It was a hug that let Akira fully lean on someone, filled with sadness and regret and a myriad of emotions the old man couldn't hope to process. He gave him a short squeeze, but eventually, it was time for the two to part.

He glanced around the room, until his eyes finally landed on a blonde man sitting by a hospital bed, holding the sole occupant's hand tightly in his own. Akira glanced back to his other children, only to notice that they were glancing the other man, too.

"He's been there for a while." Hanako said softly. "He won't get up and leave her alone, I think. Not until you got here."

The father gave a short nod. "It's alright. He's always been attached to her anyway. I'll make sure he gets up; you guys make sure that he eats."

The three nodded, watching as their father hobbled over to his eldest son. He placed a hand on the man's shoulder, making him look up finally.

He was met with a kind smile from his father, who gave his shoulder a pat. "How has she been today?"

Blue eyes glanced down to their origin and he sighed glumly. "Not well….I don't know how much time that Mom has left, Dad."

"Neither do I, but we can't hold on forever. Now, come here and give your old father a hug, Lucas." Akira said wisely, forcing the younger man to comply.

When standing at full height, Lucas Kurusu was a bit taller than his father. He was lean, and thin, and seemed to always glow with that same natural aura that his mother had. He'd always loved the spotlight and been stage born, and so when he'd had the chance to follow his mother and grandparents into the modelling business, he did. With black hair and blue eyes, and the tall and lean build of his, he was a natural. Perhaps a bit vain, but a natural.

He'd always been a momma's boy, and always respectful and polite. And strong...boy, did that boy have a will and a way. Just like his mother.

Now, however, he just looked worn and beaten down, draped in baggy clothing from head to toe and completely ungroomed. Everyone was taking this hard, but for Lucas, it was clear that it cut extra deep.

Akira folded his son into a hug, feeling his grief more than seeing it. It was so overwhelming, almost, and it was a grief that made Akira want to sweep him up in his arms and shield him from the world again, as if he were a child. His hands had fisted in the fabric of his father's shirt, and it felt as if he were going to collapse in his arms. The man held him close, knowing he'd have to let go but wanting to carry him away to a land where this didn't matter.

"Go get something to eat. I can watch your mother. You need a good meal, son."

"But what if -"

"But nothing. Go." Akira ordered, a bit of a stern edge coming to his tone.

He nodded and slowly let go, walking out shortly after with his head bowed. Hanako was the first to follow after him, but soon after, Jirou and Mia were out, too, and it was just him and the woman in the bed.

Her vibrant blonde hair had turned white some time ago, and her face had wrinkled, but she was mature and elegant even in her old age. Laugh and smile lines accentuated her lips, and crow's feet had implanted themselves snugly by her eyes. Her skin was old and freckled with sun spots and scars she'd gotten over the years, but she was still as stunning as the day he'd met her.

Akira slid his hand into her own, cradling it as if it were a valuable treasure.

He continued to study her, noting that his wife was just as beautiful as she'd been on the first day that they'd met. Even though she was older now, she was mature, and not as frail as an observer would think she'd be.

But her age was catching up with her, slowly but surely. She'd lived a long life and given birth to their 4, wonderful children. And she'd done such a good job in raising them...giving them everything a mother could hope to give.

And he was a good father. Their kids had grown up with two protective and loving parents, though not _too_ protective. It had been a good life. They'd grown old together, even after their stunts as young, reckless teens.

His other hand rested on his leg, rubbing it gently. His chest and leg hadn't been the same since that awful interrogation.

Akira's head shook on it's own the more that he thought about it, snapping him out of the symphony of memories that he was about to devour. It wasn't the time, and it wasn't worth it.

"...Akira..?"

He looked up, then, noting that she'd opened her eyes. "Good morning, my dear. Do you need me to get you anything?"

Her eyes traveled over to him, meeting his own and freezing him as if they had just met. They were a cold crystal, yet they shone with warmth from the inside out, even now. She was concerned about him. "Well, I'd like to sit up again, but..."

She trailed off, remembering the last time she'd tried to sit up and the numerous coughing spasms it had caused. Or how it had killed the phantom thieves to see someone in their group slowly slipping away with time. "So, no, I'm alright." His hand was squeezed by her own. "But thank you."

"Of course. Is there anything else I can do, though?"

"I must be eating soon...that's all I wake up for nowadays. Well, subconsciously. I want to be awake more for you and the children, but..."

"They understand." He said firmly. "Do you want me to get a nurse?"

The white-haired woman shook her head. "No, they'll come eventually. Tell me a story instead."

"A story? You're there for 99 percent of them."

"Well, tell me something I wasn't there for, would you?"

The old man's eyebrows rose at his wife, but he nodded. "Alright, then I'll tell you something. Let's see...oh, what about Futaba's first night as a mother?"

"I think I was at a shoot in Paris when that happened. Do tell."

"Well, it all begins with a little girl we know as Ayano..."

Akira went on to describe Futaba's first night as a mother and more of their stories, watching as Ann laughed along and enjoyed her time with him, a sparkle in her slowly dimming crystals. She didn't need to comment, only to listen, and he only needed to tell the stories she hadn't known before she drifted away.

If the kids noticed that Ann was a bit more mischievous that day, they certainly welcomed it.

* * *

She'd gotten worse lately.

Even as the Phantom Thieves had tried to come by for one last visit, she'd declined them, saying that she knew she must have looked like hell. She'd been shooing everyone from her room more and more, now, as if she were preparing them for her departure and not herself.

But Akira? He was stubborn. He'd lain by her bedside, folded over in that chair and with his hand in her own until she was forced to admit that he was the one person who would be there when the long sound signaled her departure into the heavens.

He was also going to be the person that missed her the most, however. He was going to miss his other half, with her way with words, and her laugh, and her everything. After decades of waking up beside her every morning - decades of watching as the sunshine hit her laughing face as they goofed off together in the morning, he was finally going to lose that.

And all that would be left would be the eyes of his children, so similar to their mother that it would be painful, almost.

But he knew he had to be there for her, and for them.

And so, he was there on the day that she passed.

She was glancing at him on that day with those diamond-cut eyes of hers and that smile she always wore, strong until the end, listening as he finished yet another story. Even though she should have been panicking because she was dying, she weakly lifted a hand to cup his cheek, watching as he leaned down to meet her more than halfway.

The fatigue of living was sweeping over her, he could tell, and it struck him that she didn't have much longer. He hated it. The old man's head dipped down to hide his expression, but the silent tears on Ann's hand told her all she needed to know.

"Oh, 'kira….." The old woman said softly, hand wiping away a tear as it rolled down his cheek. "Come on now, this isn't goodbye. This is only a see you later. Don't cry, dear."

"You've always had such a way with words, you know that?"

She smiled, but even that was only a twitch of the lips. "Not more than you."

A brittle laugh came from him. "You're so stubborn."

"I know. And you know that I love you, don't you? And all that other stuff?"

"Yeah. Save your energy. You don't need to give me the dramatic monologue." He teased, prompting another twitch of her lips.

"Aw, and here I was looking forward to it." She sighed.

The two lapsed into silence for a moment, just staring at one another. The memory of their first meeting rose to the forefront of his mind, causing his insides to twist and turn. That was years ago...must have been more than fifty, and yet…. here they were.

Ann was trying to keep her eyes open and stare at him, but the exhaustion was overtaking her. It was time for her to go.

"Hey, Akira?"

"Yes, dear?"

"I think…." she looked as if she didn't want to accept it. "I think I'm getting tired."

His throat closed, but he shut his eyes and nodded. After months of fighting, it was her time. He leaned over to adjust her hair so that it obscured her face less, and nodded. "Then it's alright to go to sleep." The man turned away, making sure she couldn't see the pain twisting his face. "I love you."

The statement was ugly and cracked at the edges, and it broke in places it shouldn't have. She pretended not to notice, however, and only squeezed his hand, shutting her eyes.

Tears were rolling down Akira's face now, assuring him that this was it. Ann wouldn't suffer anymore, and though it would be painful, he would see her soon, wouldn't he? And he had to keep living for their friends, and their children, and for everyone.

She wasn't gone yet, but she wouldn't let him give up when she was.

He squeezed her hand and prayed for her silently, promising a myriad of things that he wasn't sure he could follow through on before he saw her again.

The line on the monitor flattened.

* * *

**A/N: Oof. I'm so incredibly sorry for that feels train, but no one has written this (so far), and no one's really exploring goodbye to it's most tragic. So that's what I'm doing!**

**Also, this is like...my only angsty fic this week, and I figured if I was going to kick Shuann Week off properly, it was going to be like this. **  
**So uh, yeah! Get ready to see more of them and more of their kids, etc. It'll be a good time. **  
**Any comments, reviews, kudos, bookmarks, etc. would be much appreciated! They mean the world and let me know that I'm doing something right! (And happy Shuann Week! Day 1's other prompt will be up soon. Like ASAP.) **  
**(P.S: I do like how this piece turned out, even if it is sad as all hell.)**


End file.
